The Perfect Murder
by AlexDN
Summary: Does the perfect muder exist? This is the question our NCIS Team will answer while Tony and Gibbs fix some things in their relationship. All characters. No episode related. No pairing. A few spoilers of S10 & S11. Warnings inside. NOT a tiva story. WIP
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything of NCIS :(

A/N:

- This is NOT a follow-up to "Regrets And..."

- NOT for Ziva's fans. You've been warned so do not start complaining and leaving mean/whining reviews.

- This story takes place before 11.24 "Honor Thy Father", so Jackson Gibbs is still alive.

Thank you so much to my amazing and very patient BR, USA123 :-)

_**"The Perfect Murder"**_

_Chapter 1_

**Washington DC. December 6th, 2013. About 06.00 pm.**

Officer Bret Wilson and Officer Sam Kelly from DCPD got out of their service car and approached a man on the other side of the street.

"Mr. John Harsh? Did you call us?" Wilson asked

"Yes," the man answered, nodding vehemently. He was about forty and, from the way his muscles strained the seams of his expensive suit, he was in good shape. His tie hung loosely around his neck and his face was pale. "I'malawyerandIwasgoinghomewhen—" he panted.

"Calm down, Mr. Harsh," Kelly interrupted as he helped the younger man lean against a wall. "Take a deep breath and start again."

"Sorry," the younger man whispered. He followed the cop's advice and rested his head against the wall. "I'm a lawyer. I was in court all day. The courthouse isn't far away from here."

_He must be really upset, if he thinks we don't know where the District Court for DC is,_ Kelly thought.

"I was walking to the bus stop at the end of the street when..."

"You don't drive?" Officer Kelly asked.

"The parking lot is always full," the lawyer answered.

Kelly nodded. "Please, continue," he added.

"Yeah. As I was saying, I was walking to the bus stop when I heard a noise coming from that alley," he pointed to the dark alley on his right. "At first I thought it was a cat but then a male voice asked for help, so..." he swallowed hard. "I-I followed the voice and I...I found him. He died a few seconds later," Harsh swallowed hard again.

"Okay," Wilson said. "My partner and I are going to check the alley. Stay here and do not move," he ordered while Officer Kelly called an ambulance.

Kelly and Wilson entered the completely dark alley, flashlights in hand, and after a few steps they found the body. They crouched down and, with all the necessary safety precautions, they checked the man's pulse and found none.

"A homeless man," Wilson sighed and saw his partner nod.

"Poor guy," Kelly commented as they both stood up. "Probably had a heart attack or was ill and couldn't—"

"Don't think so," Wilson interrupted him.

"Why?" Kelly asked.

"His back is arched," the older officer explained. "Like he's lying on something," he added.

"We can't move the body before the Coroner's arrival," Kelly said.

"I know, but we can try to look under him," Wilson grunted as he dropped to his knees and pointed his flashlight at the small space between the body and the ground.

Something glinted in the light and the seasoned cop cursed.

"What?" the younger Officer asked.

"There's something metallic protruding from his back. It looks like a knife!" Wilson answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Not 100%, but he's definitely lying in a pool of blood," Wilson held his hand next to the flashlight so his partner could see the blood smeared over his glove. "So if it's not a knife, it's something equally deadly."

"So he was murdered," Kelly whispered as he turned to look at the lawyer who was sitting on the other side of the street with his head between his knees.

"Get Homicide out here," Wilson ordered as he called for back-up.

One day later, DC Homicide Department identified the victim from his fingerprints. The deceased was Joshua Mall, 51. Born on Polson, Montana. Served in Desert Storm as paramedic. His parents died when he was in Iraq. No siblings or any other relatives. After his return from Iraq, he left the Corps, got married, and settled down. In 2001, his wife was killed in a car accident. Mall had been driving and, even though he'd had a few beers that night, he was well under the limit to drive home. His blood alcohol level hardly registered on the breathalyzer, when he was tested at the scene. Though the accident was not his fault, he felt guilty and started drinking heavily. A few months later, he left his hometown.

His S.O. had tried to help out, but when Joshua left Polson, he went off grid until he showed up in that alley.

The Forensic Department wasn't able to find any fingerprints on the knife. The body and his clothes were too dirty and there were too many organic substances to find a specific trace that could lead to the murder.

The case went cold.

* * *

><p><strong>Chesapeake Bay. January 3rd, 2014. 06.30 am<strong>

Annie Sands was jogging along Chesapeake Drive, Edgewater, MD. Every morning, before going to work, she ran eight miles and today was no different.

She had already run half of her usual route and was now on her way back to the house her parents had left her before retiring to Florida. _Maybe it's too big for a single woman, but it's my house. I was born there and I love it. They say I should sell it and move to an apartment... Nah! I couldn't live without my house, my dog, my cat, my turtle, my garden, my flowers and my bay._

It was a bright morning: the sky was blue with no clouds and the air was icy. It burnt her lungs every time she took a deep breath, but Annie loved it. It made her feel strong and alive.

The young nurse stopped for a few minutes to admire the bay on her right. The snow had melted so there was no ice and the water was unusually clear. _It's so inviting... too bad I would die of frostbite in a few minutes. _Annie thought.

"Move your a**, Annie!" she told herself. "Or you'll get to the hospital late and that witch of the chief nurse will eat you alive!" The young woman huffed loudly before resuming jogging. _I hate that woman! She's old enough to retire, but she doesn't...I'm sure she's still working 'cause she enjoy making our lives a living hell!_

Annie had stopped at the fork in the road and was giving the bay one last look when something red in the water caught her attention. "Bastards!" she growled as she crossed the small lawn to fish what looked like a plastic bottle out of the water.

"Why are people so rude?! We've got to protect this world and treat it well!"

The young nurse was vegan and a staunch supporter of environmental causes. There were only a few things that made her angrier than finding trash in nature or on the street.

As she approached the water, Annie realized that that red thing was too big and too soft to be a bottle. It looked more like a plastic bag or a piece of fabric.

The wind was blowing stronger now and began ruffling the water. A small wave bumped the red thing against the shore.

The young woman stared at that red thing in horror before screaming at the top of her lungs.

The glassy eyes of a dead woman were staring at Annie. She was dressed in red.

After some research, the police identified the victim as Molly Jones, twenty-eight. She had no living family and was a well-known prostitute who lived and worked in Newport News. The last person who had seen Molly alive was her neighbor, an 83-year-old woman who had tried to help Molly many times. The neighbor had run into Molly at the door of their building at 7 pm last Tuesday, just five days before Annie found Molly's body.

After that, it seemed like Molly had disappeared. The police questioned all of her friends and acquaintances, but no one knew anything about where she had been the last few days.

The body had been in the water for so long that the police couldn't find any evidence that could help them identify the killer. The ME was unable to find any indicators of sexual assault but was able to conclude the victim had been strangled from behind, based on the marks on Molly's neck and the petechial hemorrhaging in her eyes.

The case was still open.

* * *

><p><strong>Washington DC. February 7th, 2014. 1.15 am.<strong>

"Come on, Mike!" Josh drunkenly slurred.

"Coming!" His friend Steve snapped back, heavily leaning against the wall of a house.

Josh and Steve had been friends since the first day at the kindergarten in their hometown of Scottsburg, Indiana. They attended the same high school where they started dating girls and getting into trouble together. Luckily they never got into serious trouble, so when it was time for them to go to college, they both enrolled in the Engineering School at George Washington University and became two important elements of GW's football team.

Today, they had been at Sochi Olympics Opening Ceremony Viewing Party until 11 pm. Then, they and some of their friends had moved their party to a bar not far from Charles E. Smith Center, where the viewing had taken place.

Now, clearly drunk, the two 20-year-old boys were trying to get back to their apartment on G Street NW.

"You're drunk, man!" Josh laughed before swaying, stumbling and crashing into a light pole.

"The kettle that...no...the pond that call...I mean, the pot who calls the..." Mike trailed off as a wave of nausea hit him full force. He swallowed hard. "Sick..." he choked out.

"The pot doesn't call in sick, idiot!" Josh chuckled, but immediately grimaced as he saw his best friend throwing up in a trash can.

Suddenly a screech of tires made them turn towards the street. A dark SUV had just turned the corner and now was speeding down the road.

"What the hell!" Josh exclaimed as a pale Mike finally caught up with him.

"Look!" Mike shouted as he pointed toward a man who was walking on the other side of the street, apparently unaware of the car behind him.

Both friends stared in horror at the car that had just swerved and was now heading directly for the pedestrian. "Hey! Watch out!" Mike cried as he started waving his arms, trying to catch the man's attention.

"Move! It's going to hit you!" Josh shouted.

The man turned just in time to see the car bearing down on him. He tried to jump out of the way, but it was too late.

The black car hit him at full speed and the man flew into the air before landing bonelessly on the sidewalk.

"F*ck!" Mike cursed.

"Sh*t!" Josh echoed as they both hurried to the wounded man. Adrenaline and shock sobered them up quickly.

The young men crouched down on either side of the victim. Josh checked his pulse while Mike took out his cell and called an ambulance.

"He's alive?" he asked.

"Yes," Josh panted. "Did you see the plate?" he looked at his friend.

Mike shook his head as he said, "There's been an accident. A man has been hit by a car...yes, but there's a large pool of blood under his head..." he looked around and check the number of building nearest to them. "2135 G Street in front of Psychology Department...Okay," he nodded and closed his cell. "They're coming. Hang in there, man," he lightly touched the victim's arm.

"He's wearing a Marine Corps gym suit," Josh noticed.

"And dog tags too," Mike gestured with his head towards the Marine's neck.

"Did you see the driver?" Josh asked as he kept checking the man's pulse.

"No. You?"

Josh shook his head, just as he heard sirens blaring. "Mike," he whispered. "He did... didn't..."

Mike nodded, scared. "He did it on purpose...or it was a she?"

##########

After Ziva quit the team and moved back to Israel, Gibbs, Tony and McGee worked as a three-man team for many months until former NSA Analyst, now NCIS Agent, Eleanor Bishop joined them.

Now they were a four-agent team again and the job was easier, because the new Agent was always ready to help find intel and formulate hypothesis that could help solve their cases. Ellie was also so eager to learn that it was easy for Tony and McGee to teach her all they know, while the Boss silently supervised.

While her tendencies to sit on the floor instead in a chair and associate facts with food made Ellie seem a bit weird at first, after a few weeks of working together, the entire team had realized that she fit perfectly in their group and that her quirks were funny and 'productive'.

After years of working with a Mossad Officer who pursued blind revenge without any regard for the well-being of her teammates; didn't refrain from lying to her superiors; had many problems following orders, respecting her superiors' and other people's feelings, and managing her anger, working with Ellie Bishop was a walk into the park...and Tony and McGee couldn't deny that teasing and giving their Probie the worst assignments was amusing.

Gibbs just grinned and let them have some fun, though sometimes he loved to tease both his older agents back—just to keep them in place.

All in all, Ziva's abrupt goodbye had been a good thing for MCRT: a new beginning that they all needed after too many years of lies, violence and doubts.

##########

After working non-stop for weeks, the members of Team Gibbs had been able to go home around 10 pm.

Tony was so tired he drove home on auto-pilot. He hardly remembered walking up the stairs, or opening the door to his apartment. With one of his few conscious thoughts, he made sure the door was locked before he dropped his backpack onto the floor and stumbled tiredly towards the shower to wash away the grime from their latest crime scene.

After a cup of warm milk and some cookies, the MCRT SFA had collapsed on his new and super-comfortable king-sized bed. Tony had snuggled under the softest comforter he owned and had immediately fallen asleep.

After only three hours of sleep, Tony's cell rang. Only partially awake, he thought he recognized the ringtone he'd assigned to NCIS dispatch and he slapped at his bedside table, looking for his phone. "Very special…Agent DiNozzo," he said through a yawn.

"Agent DiNozzo, we have a dead Marine on 2135 G Street NW."

It took Tony's brain a bit longer than usual to register what that annoying voice was saying.

"Agent DiNozzo? Can you hear me?"

"Unfortunately" he mumbled, still half-asleep. He sat up and rubbed his face with one hand. "Why didn't you call the on-duty team?"

"They're already at another crime scene."

"And why did you call me and not Gibbs?"

"Gibbs didn't answer," the guy answered cautiously.

If Tony hadn't been so exhausted, he would have jumped out of bed and been at Gibbs' house in no time. "Okay, I'll call him. In the meantime, call Dr. Mallard and send the address to my cell. Thanks," Tony ordered before ending the call.

Then he sent a text to McGee and Bishop ordering them to grab the van from HQ and then meet him at the crime scene.

DiNozzo stood up and headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. "I can't go on like this," he mumbled as he looked at his wet face in the mirror. "This job's killing me," he sighed. "I need a vacation. Some exotic beach with just sun, sand and sea," he continued as he walked back into his room to get dressed. "A beautiful woman wouldn't hurt...but she should be a special one."

_It's freezing outside. Winter jeans, shirt and the warmest sweater I have. Jack's white sweater,_ Tony smiled softly, remembering when his boss' dad had given him the sweater he was now holding in his hands. _I need to call him and see how he is doing. A vacation in Stillwater would be perfect,_ he sighed. _After this case I need to persuade Gibbs to... _

Finally the fog in his brain cleared and Tony cursed, "Crap!" He hurried to the nightstand where he had left his cell and immediately called his boss. "Never be unreachable! Come on, Gibbs! Answer!"

As he continued to call Gibbs, he dressed, grabbed his gear and, a few minutes later, he ran down the stairs and headed to his new car, a metallic, dark grey BMW 4 Series Convertible.

"Where are you, Gibbs?" Tony muttered as he threw his cell onto the passenger seat and drove towards his boss' house.

TBC

* * *

><p>What do you think? Do you like this new story?<p>

See you in the next chapter :-)


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own anything of NCIS :(

Thank you so much to my amazing and very patient BR, USA123 :-)

I'm happy you liked the first chapter of this new story. Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and alerts, guys!

**_"The Perfect Murder"_**

_Chapter 2_

Ducky and Jimmy in their ME truck and McGee and Bishop in the NCIS truck arrived at the crime scene at the same time.

"Where are Jethro and Anthony?" the older ME asked McGee as soon as they stepped out of their vehicles.

"Don't know, Ducky. Tony texted the address to me and Bishop and told us to bring the truck."

"Given the fact that our Team Leader and our SFA are absent, I dare say you are in charge, Timothy." Ducky raised his eyebrows as he looked at the clearly uncomfortable McGee.

"Yep, Ducky is right. You're the boss," Bishop agreed and patiently waited for McGee to do what Gibbs used to do when the Team arrived on a new crime scene: assign tasks and give orders.

* * *

><p>Tony parked his car in front of Gibbs' house, hurried through the gate and slowly opened the always-unlocked door with his SIG in his hand.<p>

The first floor was dark and silent.

The SFA opened the basement door and slowly descended the stairs. He walked around the big room in case someone was hiding beneath the stairs, but the basement was deserted. So he climbed back to the first floor and checked all the other rooms.

Nothing.

It seemed that the house was completely empty. _Where the hell are you, Gibbs?!_

Tony headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor and, just as he was about to step on the bottom stair, he heard the floor over his head creaking.

He took a deep breath and, with his back to the wall, he silently hurried up the stairs.

The hallway was dark, but Tony noticed a dim light coming out of Gibbs' bedroom. He stealthily entered the room but found it empty.

Gibbs' clean clothes lay neatly folded on the bed while the dirty ones were on the floor.

_What's going on here?_ Tony asked himself, just before being startled by a man walking out of the bathroom.

He instinctively drew his weapon, only to be shocked when he found himself aiming his SIG at his boss' head.

"Gibbs!" he gasped.

"DiNozzo! What the hell?!" Gibbs barked, tightening the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" Tony asked angrily.

"What?!"

"We've got a case. Dispatch called and you didn't answer," Tony explained as the anger in his voice grew.

As Tony holstered his weapon, Gibbs calmly walked over to his dirty clothes and pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket. He flipped it open and saw the missed calls. "The damn ringer must be broken again," he announced after a moment.

"Here," Tony sighed with a touch of annoyance. He held out his hands and Gibbs lobbed his phone into them. Tony fiddled with it for a second before snapping it closed. "Fixed."

"You were really worried," Gibbs commented as he unfolded his clean clothes.

Tony took the hint and turned his back. "Yeah, boss. Rule #3 and all," he muttered.

"So you burst into my bedroom wielding a weapon? Why? You never did it before."

"I…" Tony began but quickly realized he was at a loss for words. He really didn't know how to explain his reaction.

He had never been the guy who got scared easily, not even when guns were aimed at his head, when the team was tracking an known terrorist, or when he'd contracted the pneumonic plague. So why did Gibbs not answering his phone cause him to react like this?

Why was he so scared? Why had he thought Gibbs had been assaulted and needed his help?

Gibbs being a trouble magnet didn't justify what Tony had felt and this really bothered and scared him.

"You what?" Gibbs prompted him, tapping him on the shoulder to let his SFA know he could turn back around.

In that moment Tony's cell rang. "Saved by the bell," he grinned, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"DiNozzo," Tony answered. "Yeah, Ducky... We're coming." He closed his cell.

"Ducky?" Gibbs raised his eyebrows as he headed downstairs.

"They're at the scene and it seems McGee's having problems acting as the boss," Tony explained, following Gibbs out of the house and towards his car.

Gibbs just shook his head and got into Tony's car. The SFA took his place behind the wheel and together they left for the crime scene.

"I wonder if he'll ever learn," Gibbs sighed, looking out of the window.

"Who?" Tony asked, surprised by that comment.

"McGee," Gibbs answered. "I keep taking him with me, so he can see how to act as a team leader but it seems he's not learning anything."

"That's why we never go in the field together anymore?" Tony asked, his voice barely over a whisper.

"Yep. You were training Bishop and I was training McGee, but it seems you're doing a better job than me. Didn't you realize it, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, a bit surprised, but his SFA didn't utter a word and kept staring the road in front of them.

"What did you think?" he cocked his head to have a better look at Tony's face.

The younger man just shrugged and stayed silent. "Tony?" Gibbs insisted, though his tone was gentle and not demanding.

After what had happened in his bedroom and DiNozzo's obvious discomfort, Jethro's gut was telling him he needed to tread carefully because there was something that had cut deep in the younger man's soul.

"It's nothing," Tony shrugged again and shook his head.

"It doesn't look 'nothing' to me," Gibbs quirked his eyebrows.

They were at a red traffic light now, so Tony did not have any excuse to not look his boss. The younger man slowly turned and stared at his best friend for a long moment before choking out, "I thought you didn't want to go in the field with me after..." he swallowed hard.

"After?" Gibbs pushed, as the traffic light turned green and Tony accelerated. His SFA's eyes were once again glued to the road ahead of them.

"After I disappointed you... all of you," Tony whispered.

Gibbs' eyes widened in shock. He stared silently at his young friend and noticed the tension in his clenched jaw and the white fingers that were crushing the steering wheel.

Gibbs couldn't believe what he had just heard. "You disap—"

"Here we are!" Tony exclaimed, "accidentally" interrupting his boss. He quickly killed the engine and literally escaped from the car.

Gibbs didn't waste a moment. He shot out of the car too and grabbed Tony's arm before his SFA could set foot on the crime scene.

Tony looked at his arm and then up into his boss' eyes. "What?" he asked innocently, as if the words he had just said in the car had never happened.

"WHAT?!" Gibbs hissed, though he felt more like screaming. "You just said that you..."

"Oh, forget about it." The former cop smiled one of most winning smiles. "We've got work to do." Tony freed his arm from Gibbs' firm grip and ducked under yellow police tape.

"Whaddya got, McGee?" he asked, as if nothing had happened.

Still next to their sedan, Gibbs whispered, "The hell I'll forget about it."

TBC

* * *

><p>See you in the next chapter? I really hope so! :)<p>

Please let me know what you think...


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